


Bringing Out the Dead

by samptra



Series: Dead Files [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Haunted Houses, M/M, Mutual Pining, Psychological Horror, Romance, Sex, Supernatural Elements, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samptra/pseuds/samptra
Summary: “It’s not fair….not fair! I didn’t know what else to do!” she wailed turning so quickly her headwobbling unnaturally on her elongated neck. James’s breath hitched in his chest, a small cloud appearing with each stuttered exhale, he whimpered as she moved closer to him.“I didn’t want too!” she screamed, her pale neck pulled and distorted, rope burns dark against her unnaturally pale skin.Silent tears tracked across his face, as he squeezed his eyes closed…why did they always come to him?Why could he see people no one else could?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Loki/Thor (Marvel), Peter Parker/Steve Rogers
Series: Dead Files [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1787422
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Introductions and Reunions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is actually a story I wrote ages ago, and I'm revisiting it here. I love horror, and this is sort of a trope haunted horror movie, nothing super original about it. I do like it though, and there is a second part to it I'm hoping to re-write as well, but this is sort of a fusion of sorts romance, horror, it is graphic just a warning. Maybe a little scary? Feedback is always welcome.

* * *

**1994**

Laughing happily, the young carefree boy with dark brunette locks chased his friends across the leaf-covered yard. He loved this school. He had so many friends here, the teachers were so nice, and the best part was he could draw whatever he saw….and no one got angry or upset.

“You’re it Tony!” giggling another, the small skinny boy turning to chase his friend. Thin legs stumbling to a stop when he spotted the new boy sitting alone under a tree.

Completely forgetting the game of tag, he made his way over to the other, intrigued by the lonely figure. “Hi,” he said with a sunny smile pausing a short distance from the other.

There was a long silence before a very quiet, very shy “Hi,” came from the hunched boy.

“My name’s Tony, and you’re James!” he all but crowed, happy he remembered what the teacher had introduced the new boy as. Taking the greeting as an invitation he settled beside the boy under the tree, hugging scrawny knees to his chest against the chilly fall day.

“How come you’re here James? ” He asked curiously, idly watching as the game of tag continued on, the others still yelling and running across the playground.

The other, James, was very still for long moments, Tony beginning to think he we wasn’t going to answer, when, “What do you mean?” he asked in that same quiet voice, muffled by his knees.

“Cause this is a special school,” he explained, eyeing his new companion. “I see things sometimes,” he continued, wondering if James was nervous. A lot of new students were scared when they first came to school. Tony sure had been.

“I don’t know what they mean…but I draw them and sometimes people get upset.” He explained, remembering the way the teacher cried when he'd shown her the picture of the boy he'd seen downing in the pool. James was stubbornly silent, Tony frowned. 

Glancing around the yard he pointed to a red-headed boy who was running by insisting he’d been safe from being tagged, “Ben can sometimes move things without touching them.”

He waited for the other to say something, to acknowledge him. Slowly pale, blue-grey eyes looked up from where they were they were staring at his knees. Tony smiled encouragingly, he’d never seen such pretty eyes. James looked at him intently, and Tony held his gaze waiting…

Suddenly the bell rang signalling the end of lunch hour recess. Huffing rueful he stood brushing off his shorts, “Time to go! See you in class Jem!” He grinned at his companion, pleased when he got a small shy smile in return. Pleased and a little embarrassed Tony turned dashed back towards the school doors, cheeks feeling warm.

-#-#-#-

He woke suddenly without a sound his hands freezing, eyes wide with fright as he stared unseeing at the dark ceiling above him. Inhaling shakily, he bit back the whimper that wanted to spill from his lips. He knew this feeling, dreaded it…

It meant one of ‘them’ was close.

Knowing better than to cry out for his parents he turned slowly, heart beating so hard and fast he worried it would beat out of his chest. Pale eyes falling on the corner of his tiny room, spotting a figure muttering at the corner of his room. 

_“It’s not fair….not fair! I didn’t know what else to do!_ ” she wailed turning so quickly her head

wobbling unnaturally on her elongated neck. James’s breath hitched in his chest, a small cloud appearing with each stuttered exhale, he whimpered as she moved closer to him.

_“I didn’t want too!”_ she screamed, her pale neck pulled and distorted, rope burns dark against her unnaturally pale skin.

Silent tears tracked across his face, as he squeezed his eyes closed…why did they always come to him?

Why could he see people no one else could?

-#-#-#-

**20 years later…**

A racking cough wracked the sickly figure in the wheelchair, a trembling hand holding the silken handkerchief to his mouth as he waited for the episode to subside. Pulling the cream coloured square away from his mouth, he ignored the blood splattering it. Instead choosing to stare out the large windows facing the lake. The quietness, his only comfort these days.

“Loki?” came the soft voice to his right, rummy dark eyes turned to smile at the blonde man standing near to his elbow.

“Thor…” he wheezed with a small smile. “We’ve been together since childhood …and it would seem you will be with me to the end.”

The man showed no outward emotion, but Loki felt his heart give a painful throb in his chest. “Loki, that Doctor is here now…”

He furrowed his brow curiously, “Which one?”

The tall blonde looked vaguely apprehensive, “Dr. Zemo,”

Loki felt excitement rise in his chest, "By all means, Thor show the man in.” Standing slowly the once spry, muscular man moved towards the desk taking small painful steps, before collapsing into the large leather chair. Grunting in pain he struggled to collect himself before nodding to Thor, watching keenly as the other opened the door. A tall, man sweeping through the doors looking like he was on a mission.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” he said without preamble settling across from him, words thickly laced with a German accent. Opening his folio he peered over his glasses as he flicked through the paperwork. “I have the necessary documentation here for you to go over one more time, and sign off on.”

Leaning forward eagerly he rested thin arms on the polished mahogany, “Did you get them?” he asked with barely concealed excitement.

Nodding the Doctor matched his enthusiasm, “The last…James Buchanan Barnes, I was finally able to get in touch with you. He…he was the one I really wanted." Loki watched him eagerly, excitement matching Zemo’s. Excited he accepted the files as the other man passed them over.

Thumbing through them he glanced at the man, “When can we start doctor?”

Dr. Helmut Zemo sat back in the chair steepling his fingers, “I am meeting with them all tomorrow night to go over everything. Then Saturday we’ll head out to the site.” Sharp blue eyes glittered behind wireframes, and Loki looked back at the papers, tomorrow all their plans would finally come to fruition.

-#-#-#-

James felt his body give an involuntarily shudder, the cold sliding down his spine all too familiar. He closed blue-grey eyes counting to three before opening them, breath puffing out before him in the sudden freezing air. Willing away the compulsion to run he slowly turned to the figure now seated across from him.

The man looked out of place in his hotel shitty hotel room, dressed in his finest tuxedo, he didn’t say a word simply turned mournfully towards James. He swallowed thickly, trying not to look at the left side of his face, the flesh melted away from the skull in what James could only imagine had to have been a horrific fire.

“You’re from that house aren’t you?” James asked calmly, looking at the man head-on. One of his eyes had burst from the heat, oozing across his blackened cheek. He watched as the grinning skull bobbed in acknowledgment.

“Have you come to warn me away?”

A small smile spread on the still human side of his face, while the lipless grinning, skull stayed eerily motionless. James heaved a sigh, “I can’t, someone I care about is going there….I can’t let him go alone.” He said softly, but the frightening apparition was already fading out.

James closed his eyes clenching his fists, slamming them down on the table. "I don't need your warnings… I know I'm walking into hell…." He said to the blessedly empty room. The heat was returning, and he felt the goosebumps rash out in his skin, rolling his shoulders he absently pulled a crinkled photo out of one of his many pockets. Looking down at the well-worn paper he found his lips twitching faintly at the haunting familiar face. 

“For him… I would walk through hell.”

-#-#-#-

Tony hurriedly navigated familiar paths towards the science buildings, tugging nervously at the shoulder strap of his messenger bag. He had no idea why he was nervous, but the butterflies turned over in his stomach all the same. Absently he ran a hand through dark hair, mussing already dishevelled locks before self-consciously pushing his square-framed glasses up his nose. Taking a deep breath he crossed the courtyard entering one of the buildings, taking the stairs two at a time, as he headed to the auditorium doors.

Hesitating only a moment he pushed the heavy doors open slowly.

"Ah, Doctor Stark! Please join us.”

Tony flushed embarrassed as all eyes turned to him. Nodding he made his way down the aisle discretely assessing the others present. A sandy headed youth was seated at the front beamed at him a moment before turning back to the screen. Nearby a large blonde-haired man in a suit tapped absently on his phone, a frown furrowing his brow. A dark-haired man in a wheelchair sat off to the side, a garish multi-coloured afghan tucked around his legs. At his side sat another large blonde man, long hair tied neatly back from his face, Tony frowned feeling a familiar throb of pain behind his eyes as pictures flashed through his mind.

_Face contorted in horror, blood-smeared and panicked, he was staring at something beyond his vision. Terrifying and looming. In his lap dark hair, the man from the wheelchair still and pale._ _The blonde man was crying_ _as he gently rocked the still body._

“Dr. Stark?”

Shaking his head clear, Tony turned to the doctor slowly, “Yes sorry…hi professor.” He said stumbling to a seat. Feeling thick-headed and slow as the vision slowly faded away. Settling into one of the chairs, he did his best to mask his disappointment. The person he’d really wanted to see wasn’t here. He had thought perhaps he would have been here. Berating himself for foolish thoughts he absently looked up as the doors opened again and his breath caught.

Tony’s chest hitching he exhaled in a rush, “James …” he sighed softly to himself with a mix of nerves and excitement. It had been so long…so very long since he’d seen him.

“ _Jem? Why are all the people in your pictures dead?” Tony looked at his friend with kind exasperation. “You upset people drawing these things,”_

_The older boy slumped forward dejected, “Sorry Tony,” he mumbled._

_The pair had become fast friends since James had started almost six months ago and bit-by-bit the stone face child was coming out of his silent shell. Tony learning more about his friend with each passing day, learning that James was special. Really special, unique in a school full of the unusual._

_“Jem if you want to draw, why not draw me and you…sometimes…” Tony looked around fearfully before lowering his voice to a whisper, pressing his lips to the other’s ear._

_“Sometimes we have to keep what we see to ourselves because people don’t understand.”_

_The pale-eyed boy nodded his understanding, “Ok Tony,” he agreed softly a small smile curling his lips._

Shaking the memories away Tony watched as the tall broad figure moved slowly down the aisle stopping two rows behind him. With a nod of acknowledgement to the room, he settled silently into one of the desks. Frustrated that he couldn't get a better look at him Tony turned back to Professor Zemo as he began to speak.

"Well, gentlemen it looks like we are all here."

He smiled winningly, "As I have told you all, this is a research and fact-finding expedition. We are about to spend the weekend at the most haunted location in the country."

The lights dimmed then and a black and white photo of a large, mansion loomed imposingly on the screen behind him.

“Gentleman, this is Thornton Hill Manor or simply ‘The Manor.


	2. History and Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah sorry! I've been taking a bit of break from writing, and we recently decided to sell our house and move so it's been a bit of a hectic time, I am still intending to plug away at this, do my very best. I know horror isn't everyone's cup of tea but I legit love horror, and I'm aiming for a paranormal, sort of early 2000's feel on this one. I hope you'll come along with me, and have patience as my days have suddenly filled up.

* * *

"Many legends and ghost stories surround the Manor, as well as the Thornton family, but we are only interested in the truth. With that in mind, what follows are verifiable facts. Supported by newspapers as well as letters and journals of the inhabitants of the house.”

The remote clicked and the picture changed, another old black and white photo, this time of an unsmiling young couple in their wedding finery. Tony leaned keenly forward in his seat, curiosity winning out over the awareness of the other sitting no more than two rows behind him.

"Jack and Barbra Thornton married 1803, Jack was a shipping mogul, he built Barbra Thornton Manor on the hill overlooking the town. However the house was not ready when they married so the pair embarked on a world tour while they waited for the construction be finished.”

The slide changed and the same man now stood proudly beside a dead lion gun in hand.

“Jack an avid hunter, and collector of oddities, dragged his new wife to every dark corner of the globe in search of game. Both for sport, and for other…more nightly pursuits.”

The next photo was of Jack and Barbra seated together, the jungle in the background hinting vaguely at the location.

“It was while they were in the depths of the Amazon that Barbra became very ill, nearly losing her life. One of the local women, however, was able to pull her through. It was said that afterwards, Barbra was never quite the same.”

_Click._

“This is the finished house they returned too in 1805, and also where the legend of the Manor really begins.”

_Click._

“This is Edger Freemen, he was one of the workers who had been putting the finishing touches on the trim inside the house. They had left him alone in the dining room for twenty minutes…and when they returned….”

The picture showed a body covered in a white sheet, being loaded into the back of a wagon. A dark stain clearly visible on the pristine cloth.

"The official report states that Freemen drove nails through his hands, feet, tongue, and eyes before he bled out."

_Click_ , the couple was back, standing outside their grandiose front entrance of the Manor.

“As far as we know Freeman was the first official death recorded in the Manor, but it did not deter the Thornton from moving in, especially since Barbra was already pregnant.

A picture of a happy looking baby, “There one and only child Michael.”

_Click._

“Although he was raised in a strict household, Michael was reported to have a rather normal childhood. Moving away from the Manor in his early twenties to pursue a law degree, he never returned.”

Professor Zemo clicked through a series of photos in quick succession, "The house remained silent during this time, but once the son was gone, the following series of events still have not been properly been explained.” He paused here seeming to collect himself a moment before adjusting his glasses and continuing in. “Jack allegedly jumped from the top floor picture window onto the driveway below, killing himself. There was, of course, a lot of talk about Barbra ‘helping’, her husband out the window. As well as talk of Jack unable to live with her any longer, looking for an escape.”

The next series of pictures showed the police surrounding a blanket-covered body on the ground.

"Others started whispering it was the house itself causing the tragedy.”

The next was a photo of an older woman laying silently in her coffin.

“Barbra died several years later, alone, and in her bed. The manner of death was recorded as 'unknown' but as she was an older woman they didn't pry too hard.”

There was another slide; “The house was then put up for rent by the son, who with a thriving law practice across the country didn’t want to live in it. Sandra Lawn, the novelist eventually rented out the place.”

Tony’s brow furrowed in thought, he recognized the name. Sandra Lawn had been a rather famous turn of the century writer, focusing on the occult and spirituality, as well as being a notoriously eccentric woman. The picture on screen showed a rather solemn-faced woman in a beautiful feathered hat.

“She and her husband never had children.”

_Click_ , a police photo of a man dangling from the ceiling, as they cut him down.

“Mr. Lawn hung himself within a month. Mrs. Lawn was never found.”

The next picture showed a gaily-lit house, a large number of people in the frame.

"After the death and disappearance, the house stood empty until the 1940s, when a famous actress Gayle Ross leased the mansion. Known for throwing all-night parties. The sort of parties that only the very wealthy and notable could attend."

The next photo the mansion once dark and ominous was now a ball of burning orange.

“One night during one of these lavish affairs, the house caught fire…a grand total of 23 people died that night, including Gayle Ross whose charred body was found in her bed. After the fire the house was rebuilt again by the Thornton family estate, six workers lost their lives this time. Faulty wiring, falling debris, that sort of thing.”

There was a series of shots in colour now, of the work being done to the house, ending with the large, ugly, forbidding building.

“The final and perhaps most tragic story connected to the house deals with a pair of young lovers.”

The next picture was done in black in white, but much better quality photography, featuring two, young, teenage boys.

“The pair were chased onto the grounds by classmates bullied for their sexual orientation."

Zemo paused here, taking a breath, whether form emotion or for dramatic effect Tony wasn’t sure.

“The first boy, Dan tried to fight off the attackers, but overwhelming odds lead to him being beaten to death on the front lawn. His boyfriend Keleb was chased into the house where he was reported to have fallen down the stairs breaking his neck.”

There was a thick silence in the room as several more pictures flashed by, the battered face of Dan on the coroner’s table, and the pale, quiet countenance of Keleb beside him.

“These are the last officially documented deaths at Thornton Hill Manor.”

At this point, Dr. Zemo turned off the projector, and Tony blinked rapidly at the sudden flood of light in the auditorium as the presentation ended.

“Now, this is where we come in, ‘The Manor’ as it’s colloquially known among paranormal investigators, is thought to be the ‘Holy Grail’ of haunted houses.”

He held up a sheaf of papers, "I have gathered all the information I can from previous investigations of the house, the longest lasted, a grand total of two hours. We, however, shall be spending two days in the Manor. I have a file for all of you to look over as well as empty dorm rooms set up for your use tonight."

The professor panned the room, “Gentlemen, we leave at six tomorrow morning, I suggest you all get a good night’s sleep.”

Dismissed, Tony was standing, moving to the front of the room to pick up a file, his curiosity growing by the moment. He had heard of the Manor, but not really the specifics of it. Professor Zemo has already moved to speak to the vaguely familiar man in the wheelchair.

“My name is Peter nice to meet you,” an excited, voice said, drawing Tony’s attention away from the small group. The young sandy-haired man was smiling at him with an open honest face.

Tony returned the smile pushing his glasses up and extending a hand, “Tony, nice to meet you, Peter.” 

The younger man looked at his hand, then up at him, hazel eyes apologetic, “I’m sorry, I’m an empath and touching people…”

Tony made a soft noise of understanding as he held up his hands, “Say no more I understand, I’m a pre-cog.”

His eyes widened in excitement, “Really? It’s super nice to meet someone who is…” he trailed off looking for the right word.

Laughing Tony shook his head grabbing a folder, handing him one as well, “Unique? I guess is the nicest way of saying it right?”

Peter accepted the file with a nod of thanks, both of them watching curiously as the large blonde man in the suit finally finished with his phone and moved to join the small group in the corner speaking in low tones.

“He is the last of the Thornton line, Steve Rogers.” Peter explained quietly, "He accidentally brushed by me earlier, he's been to the house before….something happened, something terrible.”

Peter looked fearful, and excited at the same time, “I’m not sure what I’m getting into.”

Tony nodded carefully glancing over his own shoulder, James hadn’t moved from his spot, he sat head bowed, “Neither am I,” he replied distractedly.

Curiously Peter following his gaze, “Who is that?”

Tony glanced back at his new friend, “James Barnes, he’s a…well I’m not sure what you would call him, medium? Psychic?”

Peter blinked, mouth opening in surprise before hazel eyes snapped back to him, “You mean he can talk to the dead?”

Nodding Tony looked back to the figure, “Not just talk…he can see them.”

Peter looked ecstatic, "No kidding, eh? Wow, I never met anyone who can actually see them." Tony felt a small smile pull his own lips, that was usually about the sort of reaction people gave when they learned about James's gift. Well, that or disbelief. 

"Guess we're heading out, see you up at the rooms?” Peter nodded to where the professor, was walking out with the man in the wheelchair, flanked by the two intimidating blonde men.

Nodding Tony jerked his head towards the still figure, “Yeah, I’ll just going to wake him up.”

“Sure thing,” Peter replied with a wave, hurrying out after the others.

Tony waited until the door clicked shut behind them, leaving them alone in the large, silent auditorium. Tony wandered towards the slumbering man, pausing as he got within touching distance. Dark brown eyes taking the opportunity to look his fill of the other. It’d been so long since he’d seen Jem… He looked good; tanned, arms thickly muscled, short dark hair. Tony's fingers itching to touch the soft-looking locks.

Reaching out he was about to place a gentle hand on a wide shoulder when his vision blurred, and a powerful wave of images crashed through his mind;

_James._

_Screaming… hands outstretched._

_Wind…pulling at him, wrenching…._

_Fingers reaching…_

With a deep shuddering breath, his arm dropped shakily to his side, gasping Tony desperately tried to steady his breathing. Closing his eyes tightly, he focused on getting himself together. Trembling with the aftershocks. Headache screaming to the forefront.

Suddenly strong hands were on his arms, him holding him steady, “Bad one?”

The voice was different then he remembered, deeper resonate, and somehow calming and soothing. He opened his eyes slowly looking up, into those pale grey-blues, clear and calm. Tony could easily drown in those eyes.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice coming out shakier then he wanted for their first meeting in years.

Gentle hands smoothed down his back, a strong arm around his waist in solid support. “I remember you being shorter,” Tony said with a watery smile, watching for that elusive smile to appear. Those smiles Tony remembered being only for him.

“I’m glad you remember me.”

Well aware of the warm arm still wrapped around him, Tony blushed looking away from those intense eyes, “How could I forget?” he mumbled suddenly horribly flustered, unsure what to say. The air felt heavy, thick with anticipation. Tony wanted desperately to ask him why he'd disappeared all those years ago. Demand to know why he hadn't even bothered to contact him.

Clearing his throat he stepped reluctantly out of the loose embrace, “Anyway what are you doing here? How did the Doc wrangle you into this?”

James shrugging noncommittally, looking away and Tony resisted sighing. He'd always been quiet, withdrawn and sullen. It would seem that even with age he hadn't changed all that much.

Forcing a smile Tony handed him one of the files, he accepted frowning at it, “It’s what we need to know about the house.” The silence stretched on between them a few beats as Tony gathered his courage, “So do you feel like maybe some dinner? And catching up?” He asked hesitantly.

He held his breath, wanting to sag in relief when James nodded, “Yeah I would like that.”

-#-#-#-

“Military school?”

They sat in a small booth across from each other in the noisy university cafeteria. The place was packed with students laughing, and chatting as they ate their dinner.

“Yeah,” James confirmed quietly as he worked on his sub.

“But you were so young when they pulled you out of the school,” Tony looked at him, sadness in dark eyes.

James shrugged, unable to adequately explain his alcoholic, abusive father's decision. Shipping him off to the military had been easier and cheaper, then the 'school for freaks'. It had been his mother who had advocated for the school, but when she died….

James had just been glad to get out.

“So you’re still in the military?” Tony asked, and James tried not to stare. He looked good, really good. Dark hair pushed effortlessly back, perfectly trimmed facial hair, dark-framed glasses perched on his nose. He looked every inch the academic, despite the metal band t-shirt and jeans he wore.

"Yeah, I'm on leave right now, three-month rotation before I go back again."

Tony looked at him surprised, “You’re in an active combat zone?”

Nodding James finished his meal, he already knew what Tony was thinking, “I know, what are you up too?” He asked this time, trying to steer the subject away from himself.

Tony looked at him knowingly, he'd always been damnable perspective, James had always wondered if that was part of his exceptionality. "Well, I'm working on my doctorate right now, in parapsychology. I’m exploring how the human mind can be influenced by the mundane to believe in the extraordinary.”

James nodded unconsciously touching his pocket where the picture was, he knew all about Tony’s research. Tony had been making the rounds in academic magazines for months, the man was a genius, gifted, he had three doctorates already in physics, electrical and mechanical engineering…he was a man of science well respected in the academic community.

Until recently.

His decision to move into the world of parapsychology had not been well received. 

Tony was still chatting away warming up to the topic of his paper, James listening intently nodding when appropriate. He was losing himself in those animated eyes, an enthusiastic voice when that sickeningly familiar chill crept over him.

It was only through years of training that he was able to remain calm, to hide his reactions. Time and practice had toughed him mentally, physically. He’d come to deal with this terrifying curse that he’d been given. He wasn’t that crying, scared child he’d once been. Setting his jaw he looked up spotting them right away.

It had once been a student that much was clear. James watched as the figure walked across the dining hall, in gore spattered workout clothes, shorts and a t-shirt. Halfway across the room, he paused turning, the figure looked at him mournfully. Half his face was missing, probably hit by a car.

“…see one?” Tony’s voice broke through his concentration, pulling him back, “James?”

Shaking his head to clear the cold from his thoughts, he glanced once more as the figure walked out disappearing through the wall, “Sorry?”

Tony was looking at him concerned, “I asked if you had seen one?”

James felt a self-deprecating smile pull his lips, “That obvious? I thought I had gotten better.”

Tony smiled, “You have, I just know how to read you. Was it a student?” He asked finishing his own food.

James tried not to show his surprise at the off-handed remark, nor the blush that crept up his cheeks. Tony had always been able to know, had been the only one that hadn't been afraid of him.

“Could have been a student, was young, looked like they’d been hit by a car.”

Tony was silent long moments, and James thought he’d messed up again. He had learned to keep what he saw to himself, it upset people…scared them. Tony though…he’d always been different.

“I missed you Jem,” he said softly a small shy smile on his lips, “It’s been so long time.”

He was blushing then, the nickname pulling at the few good memories he had. Only Tony had called him Jem. Looking at his lap he heard the other clear his throat, as he glanced up at the man raising his soda, “Well here’s to a weekend of re-connecting, in a haunted house.”

James felt his lips twist as he picked up his own cup, “To a weekend in a haunted house.”


	3. Warnings and Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry! It's been summer. I'm teaching summer school while selling my house, and renovating the new one. Urgh. I will do my best to get this up as soon as I can, I hate to leave people hanging! Hope everyone is doing well out there, summer is my favorite time for horror, so enjoy!

* * *

_"This is a bad idea, sir…"_

The rasping voice chided, accompanied by the biting cold that seemed to cling to the dead like a cloak.

"I know Corporal," he muttered glancing up at the soldier who stood by his bed, dressed in full combat gear his gun in hand he looked almost alive…except for the large bloody hole where his right eye used to be.

_“Don’t go,”_ came the grating voice of another victim of the current war, he was in his PT clothing, shorts and t-shirt. His left arm missing at the elbow, and a large chunk of shrapnel from an IED lodged in his face.

“I wish I could Private,” he mumbled.

He had known Corporal Kyle Lancer, and Private Christen Foss in life, they had been men he served with in life, and they’d been following him for a while in death. James had hoped they would have found peace when they’re bodies had come home, but they seemed keen on hanging around a while yet. 

“I came back to protect him, and he wants to go," James mumbled cross-legged in his boxer briefs and t-shirt reading over the file for the third time. His breath puffing out in frozen clouds, the longer the two stayed the colder it got.

_“We can’t come,”_ Lancer wheezed beginning to fade out.

"Wouldn't want you to," James replied as Foss began to fade as well. Alone again he turned back to the file, he didn't need to read anymore.

“House of the dead,” he sighed, tossing the file aside, as he slipping into bed. He was going to need all the sleep he could get for tomorrow.

-#-#-#-

Tony tried to sleep, lights out he stared at the blank ceiling. It had been an interesting day, and by his estimation, tomorrow was going to get even more so.

Letting out a long breath he closed his eyes, hoping the terrifying visions he’d been having as of late would not come to fruition.

-#-#-#-

Down the street in a lavish hotel room, Loki lay swaddled blankets, frail form swallowed up by the overly large bed as he watched Thor moving about the room, putting things in order for tomorrow’s trip.

“It’s all coming to fruition,” he wheezed, coughing into his hand he tried to ignore his ailing body, he felt feverish and manic, “It all begins tomorrow, and we will know Thor.” He coughed again, a warm wetness trickling down his face.

The large blonde came over delicately wiping the blood from his chin, “Of course Loki.”

He hummed as he shook his hands free of the blankets reaching up to pull Thor close, the big man falling into his embrace willingly. Trembling he closed his eyes holding the warm body close. 

“Get some rest, big day tomorrow,” Loki heard the words as he drifted into sleep, warm and safe for the moment.

-#-#-#-

Frowning Thor looked down at the fitfully slumbering man, he gently brushed dark locks back. He had a terrible feeling about this weekend, about this whole plan…but it was Loki’s decision. As always though he would stand by him, no matter what, until the very end.

An end that should have been years and years away…not a matter of months.

Sighing softly he stood to finish his tasks before he would slip into bed with his charge, offering him his heat during the night.

-#-#-#-

“Tony tells me you can see the dead," Peter announced, looking at him expectantly over the back of the seat of the van.

It was too early to talk about the dead; way too early. 

James sighed heavily, he had only just settled in the back of the van, Tony sliding in beside him before immediately opening his notebook and scribbling away. Upfront the big blonde haired man, Steve, sat with Professor Zemo, as he guided the van down the road.

Peter had been quiet for all of about a minute.

“I mean like do you see ghosts or what?”

James reluctantly opened his eyes glancing first at Tony, the man looking very studiously at his notes, cheeks faintly red.

"Yes, I see the dead, wouldn't call them ghosts." He answered softly.

That was all the encouragement the youth needed, as the questions started coming thick and fast, “Do they talk? Or just like just sort of follow you around? I mean are they like the dead in anime? Or are they like the dead in the _Sixth Sense_?”

Beside him, Tony had given up the pretense of working, listening to them instead. James resisted a groan before surrendering to the inevitable.

“ _Sixth Sense_ ,” he answered quietly.

Peter gasped, “Oh wow! So they like, look like how they died?” He said quietly, hunching down a little against the seat. “Can they talk? Like can you hear them, and speak to them?” Peter pressed on, looking eager and intent.

James nodded, before clarifying quietly, “Some do, others don’t.”

Peter looked at him in exasperation, James felt his lips twitch. He didn’t like to talk about himself, never really had. When he’d been at the school the teachers had spent three years trying to get in his head…and only ever seen glimpses; it had been enough to terrify them.

“Do some follow you all the time? Like you have ones you see over and over?” Peter asked thoughtfully.

“Sure I guess…some I see more than once.”

“Are some bad? Like do they want to hurt you? Evil?” The question came from Tony, James glancing at him curiously.

“Not that I’ve seen…the dead just are.” He responded with a dismissive shrug.

Peter’s eyes where the size of saucers, kneeling on the bench seats he gazed at James with something akin to awe, “That’s so cool…” he said softly.

There was a brief lull then, Tony returning to his notebook, and James closed his eyes again hoping to get some sleep.

"I'm an empath, people and objects if they have a story to tell,” Peter grinned, “Not sure how much help I can be,” he explained with a shrug before turning to Tony, “And you were saying you see the future? How does that work? Like can you see the winning lottery numbers?”

James opened his eyes again, curious to watch the exchange. Tony was grinning at the kid over the top of his glasses, "I wish. Unfortunately, all I see are possibilities."

Peter looked as confused as James felt.

Tony wrinkled his nose in thought, “Every day we make choices. Thousands of decisions that potentially change the course of our lives, do we go to the store or not? Do we go to this house this weekend? Deciding to go is one set of possibilities for the future if we don't, that presents a completely different set of possibilities. "

Hazel eyes blinked in understanding, “Oh I think I get it, so like you see possibilities of the future.”

Tony nodded, “Exactly, only I have no way of knowing when, or how they will happen. But on principle the stronger they are, the more likely they are to happen.”

James looked at him, "I didn't know that'd how it worked. Explains why you could never get away during dodge ball."

Tony gave him a playful shove, and he felt a warmth in his chest. Peter grinned asthe van continued to rumble onward.

-#-#-#-

“Wow…I feel like the people in _House on Haunted Hill_ ,” Peter whisper, as they crested the hill overlooking the Manor.

Upfront, Steve turned to look at him curiously, “Never saw the end of that one.”

Peter shot him a wry smile, “I’ll let you know how it turns out later.”

Only half-listening to the exchange Tony glanced up from his notes, getting his first good look at the Manor;

_Darkness, oppressive and thick._

_The front door blow wide open._

_The tortured scream of a woman._

_The house pulling, clawing they would never be free…_

“Tony!”

A gentle hand was tapping his face, strong arms holding him steady as he blinked coming back to himself. The pale, worried face of Peter swimming into view, and next to it was the calm, worried face of James.

“That was bad,” he mumbled touching a shaky hand to his forehead, feeling the cold sweat drying there.

James squeezed him gently, “What did you see?” he asked softly.

“Bad things,” Tony answered honestly, looking at Peter with a wan smile, “I’m fine, it happens sometimes.

Without warning Peter took his hand, gasping he involuntarily clenched tight to his fingers in horror.

“You saw the house…the Manor…a women screaming.” Peter released his hand, shaking his head as if to clear.

“Impressive,” James remarked.

Peter shrugged, leaning against the seat with a wan smile.

The whole episode had lasted no more than five minutes, but Tony felt wrung out already, and the day hadn’t even started.

The van was pulling up to the front of the mansion, circling the once impressive marble fountain now stagnant and decaying. A pricey Mercedes already waiting for them. Coming to a stop, Helmut shut down the vehicle. Eager for some fresh air, Tony stood to exit, thankful James was steading him as they stepped out in the bright sunlight.

“Wow…” Peter muttered echoing Tony’s thoughts as they looked up in amazement.

Tony glanced at the younger man, large dark aviators over his eyes in the bright sunny yard, he was wearing black skinny jeans, red Converse All-Stars and a black t-shirt with the original Dawn of the Dead logo across it.

“This place is all kinds of hinky,” Peter murmured shaking his head as he circled the van, heading for the back.

“What do you think?” Tony asked James, the taller man grimed faced and silent as he stared up at the ominous building towering over them.

“Well we’re all here, Steve would you do the honours?" Professor Zemo directed briskly.

Nodding the tall, muscular blonde unlocked the padlock holding the chain across the door, letting it slither noisily to the floor. Slowly he pushed the creaking wood inwards, the door opening like some black gaping maw.

Slowly the small group moved forward, the tall blonde man, and wheelchair-bound man were slowly entering with Dr. Zemo. Tony moved to help Peter with the cases, suddenly wanting to do anything but to go inside. James appeared then to help followed by another.

“Can I help?” Steve asked hesitantly.

“Sure thing!” Peter replied brightly, holding out a case to the burly blonde that had joined them.

Tony finally got a good look at the last of the Thorton decedents. He was as tall as James and just as wide. He looked more casual today, in jeans and a hoodie, but Tony didn’t miss the way his eyes kept glancing uneasily towards the house.

“Steve Rogers, I’m ah…the owner I guess.” He said with a half-smile, holding out a hand.

“Tony Stark, not sure what I’m doing here,” he grinned shaking the man’s hand before moving back to grab some cases.

“Peter, is this all yours?" he grumbled heaving a case as the lithe brunette balanced three of the cases easily, moving up the stairs.

“Yup, I’m running the tech it’s what I do.”

Grinning he disappeared inside, followed closely by Steve.

Tony paused on the threshold, James at his side, “Ready?” he asked unsure if the question directed to James or himself.

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here,” the taller man muttered, Tony shivering as an ominous chill ran up his spine.

“Well Shakespeare, with that cheery thought…” he muttered as they stepped hesitantly across the threshold.


	4. Arrival and Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.....first off I am sorry, back to work and I've been very busy but I have not forgotten and seeing as it is spooky season I want to get this done this month, a treat from me to you. So for now, enjoy the next installment.

* * *

“So what do these all do?”

Steve asked curiously as he helped Peter unpack the cases he’d dragged in. The younger man was crawling around on the dusty floor, organizing wires, and hooking up TV monitors, recorders, and a variety of other devices that Steve couldn’t even begin to name. He’d been relegated to holding tools and zip ties.

“All paranormal detecting stuff,” Peter explained wiggling under a table. Steve nodded hesitantly, eyeing the intricate looking machines before glancing to the large dark-haired man sprawled out on one of the couches, eyes closed he looked like he was sleeping. Steve rolled his shoulders uncomfortably trying very hard to not turn and walk right back out again. 

He'd spent years trying to convince himself that what had happened to him here had been nothing more than childish imagination run amuck.

Ghosts weren’t real.

“Philps head please Steve,” Peter’s voice was muffled but a hand appeared from under the table. Dutifully he handed it over, watching as long fingers curled around the handle before disappearing. There had been a flurry of activity once they had gotten in, electing to set up base camp in the large living room. Steve having been press-ganged into helping Peter, not that he minded, while Dr. Zemo organized his papers.

Loki and Thor had vanished into the smaller sitting room just off the larger one they were in. Steve had really wanted to tell them not to go. It was safer together, wasn't it?

"Ok I think that's got it," Peter remerged, looking excited, a smudge of dust on his cheek as he made his way over to his screens. Steve trying not to be obvious he was staring. The slender young man was bright, cheerful, and very much his type.

“Well since we’re all here, do we know each other?” Helmut spoke up then, clapping his hands, grinning widely as he moved to stand in the middle of the room. Steve turned his attention to the Professor. There was something about the man that rubbed him the wrong way. A gut feeling that he couldn’t seem to shake.

“We all know the main reason we are here is research, but Mr. Loki Laufeyson has seen fit to finance our little operation.”

Steve still hadn’t figured out the man’s motivation. Laufeyson Industries was huge, he was wealthy beyond belief, what the hell did he want with a supposed haunted house?

“His companion, Thor Odinson, his valet of sorts.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes, valet his ass, it was clear their relationship went far beyond simple employee, employer.

“Doctor Tony Stark, currently working on his doctorate in parapsychology. Peter Parker, our paranormal investigation expert.”

He rounded to Steve then, “Steve Rogers, the current owner of the property, Mr. Rogers has graciously allowed us to use the house before it is torn down.” Steve wanted to sigh, it had been against his better judgement to allow this, but he really couldn't argue with the money they offered. Between this expedition fee and the money, he'd get from the sale of the land he was finally going to be able to pay off his mother's hospital bills. 

“I of course will be able to finish my latest paper,” Professor Zemo preened, before turning his attention to the final individual in the room. The mysterious dark-haired man that didn't look as if he ever smiled. 

The man held Zemo’s gaze, expressionless, “Finally James Buchanan Barnes…with his unique abilities.” Steve frowned, he got the impression there was more than the Professor wasn't saying. 

“Ahhh here is Mr. Laufeyson, shall we go on the tour now? Steve would you be so kind?”

Reluctantly he nodded leading them towards the door, it looked like their weekend was about to be getting going.

-#-#-#-

James moved to fall in step with Tony, starting when Peter appeared before him camera in hand.

“James, can I ask a favour? If you see a ghost can you point them out? I want to see if I can get a recording.”

He sighed, Peter clearly watched too many movies, "The dead only appear on film if they choose Peter.” He explained quietly so as not to interrupt the others who were listening to the soft-spoken Steve explaining some of the rooms as they went.

“Really? That’s wild,” he muttered swinging the camera back around, focusing on the tour.

James trailed behind the others, only half listening as they were lead to the bedrooms, their guide explaining which ones belonging to various famous occupants of the Manor.

Shivering he tried to control his breathing, he wanted to leave this place, every fibre of his being screamed to him to grab Tony and run. Breathing deep he fought the urge instead he reached out gently settling a hand on Tony’s shoulder, the contact easing him somewhat. He felt Tony tense a second, before turning him with a soft smile, the man patted his hand slowing so their bodies were closer together.

Moving past one of the rooms James saw the figure of a man swinging from the ceiling, his face bloated and distorted, eyes bugging out as his tongue protruded from his swollen lips. Pressing on he decided not to tell Peter about the gruesome sight.

“This is the master suite where Gaylen Ross had her room,” Steve explained as they paused to look in.

James’s hand jerked on Tony’s shoulder as they stood in the doorway of the once opulent room now decaying, charred marks from the flames on the once expensive wood fixtures. It was the bed however that drew his attention. She was there. Pink and black charred skin mottled her nude frame, bits of white bone showed through the patchy skin as she turned. Most of her face was gone, her breast sagging over her open chest showing shrivelled organs inside.

_“It came for me, for us all…”_ she rasped. Slowly standing on badly burned legs.

_“It’ll come for you_ ,” she promised arms upraised, staggering forwards.

“James?” Tony was looking from him to the room and back, he couldn’t speak, eyes on her, his grip on the other tightening.

Tony panned the room again frowning, “She’s here isn’t she?”

Peter moved further in-camera before him, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the figure.

“Is she talking James? Is she saying something?” Zemo asked, looked excited and nervous at the

same time.

"She says 'it'll come for you' as it came for her," James answered, throat dry as the words wheezed out. She was tottering closer and James reflexively pulled Tony closer to him. Protecting him from something that only he could see.

In the process he accidentally bumped into Peter, reaching out he automatically steadied the younger man feeling the slight frame jerk in response. Remembering what Peter had said before about his ability he quickly released him.

“Sorry,” he rushed pulling his hands away.

“You ok?” Steve asked hand resting on the others thin shoulder.

“Yeah think so,” Peter muttered shaking his head before turning to him. “Saw her James, the fire though, the fire was weird, it was only on her and the bed.”

Nodding he drew Tony out of the room completely, “It really was.”

The dead woman was screaming now flinging herself on the bed again and again.

“Your hands are ice cold,” Tony murmured touching them with his own warmer ones.

Nodding James half smiled, “Occupational hazard.”

-#-#-#-

With no other encounters the group eventually returned to the living room, and their makeshift command headquarters.

Across the room Peter sat munching chips behind his console, reviewing the footage from earlier, Steve sitting nearby. James got the impression the big blonde was smitten with the slender brunette.

Tony settled beside him on the couch, while across from them Zemo spoke, about his research and paper, how his work was going to change the face of paranormal research. Tony was nodding politely, but James had long tuned out. His attention on the far side of the room, the butler…Thor? Was serving his charge his evening meal, but that's not what caught his eye. It was the beautiful woman behind the man in the wheelchair. As he watched she leaned forward, hugging him with ghostly arms, before placing a soft kiss on his head. Glancing up she locked gaze with him before offering him a sad smile. Placing a finger to her lips she slowly faded out.

“Things got a whole lot more complicated,” he mumbled.

The professor turned his focus to him then, an odd intensity in his eyes, “So James…seen any more of them?”

He felt an uneasy roll in his stomach.

-#-#-#-

Professor Zemo was staring hard at Jem, intent and fixed.

Tony didn’t understand why the professor was obsessed with James. Frowning Tony was about to interject when the house shuddered, a cold wind gusted through the room scattering papers. Across the room Peter gave a soft cry ripping his headphones off.

Surprised Tony started before looking to James, but the man had gone eerily still beside him, jaw clenched and hands fisted.

“Holy shit I got that!” Peter yelled, frantically tapping away on his computer, “Listen to this!”

They all gathered around his little console as he hit play. Brief static before an unearthly scream rent the air, making all the hair on Tony’s body stand on end.

Peter cut it short whistling as he turned from the audio to the monitor again.

Tony rubbed chilled arms. Glancing around uneasy he moved closer to James, the other smiling at

him tightly, reassuringly. Tony reached out, suddenly needing to touch the man, reassure himself when pain burst behind his eyes…

_“Now! Hold them now!” James yelled, bleeding from a cut above his eye the wound angry and purple._

_He held a gun in his hand trained on something…his knuckles were bruised, discoloured, and sore looking._

_Handprints._

_He looked as if he had been in a fight. He was waving with his hand gesturing, a familiar sandy-haired figure lay crumpled at his feet. Tony looked trying to see what James was seeing, to all the commotion._

_A bright light, and a scream echoing unbearably in his head._

He knew no more.

-#-#-#-

“Tony!” James yelled catching him before the limp figure went face-first into the floor. He was out cold, a trickle of blood running from his nose.

“Shit,” James muttered, gently lifted the man into his arms.

Peter hurried towards them, touching a gentle palm to Tony’s head, almost immediately recoiling. “I only got bits and pieces. James, it was you…and me, definitely not good.” Frowning Peter shook his head clearing it; “Something cut it short though before it got to the important bit…”

Zemo moved forward excited, “What important part?”

Then Peter stepped back, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “Before he could see whatever it was trying to kill us.”

-#-#-#-

“I think we should leave Loki," the tall blonde said tucking him into bed.

They had decided to spend the first night together in the living room and the attached study area. Thor having made up a small cot for his charge, enclosed with a small privacy screen he’d found offering some protection against the prying eyes of the others.

The dust in the place had sent the fragile man into a fit of coughing, Thor doing his best to ignore the stained handkerchief he held to his lips.

“Noted Thor but we are not leaving. Phantom winds and unearthly screams are not proof enough."

Nodding resigned, he bundled the other up in the afghan, frowning at the poor protection against this drafty house.

“Stay close,” Loki mumbled softly, his dying body pulling him towards sleep.

Thor nodded, “Always, Loki…always.”

-#-#-#-

Zemo sat by the small dim lamp pouring over his notes. Studying the schematics of the house again, he circled the rooms they hadn’t visited today. Area’s he wanted to look at tomorrow, smiling slowly he glanced at the other occupants of the room, his gaze resting on the big figure seated on the couch.

He smiled slowly, James was the key….he was sure of it.


	5. Secrets and Agendas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope to get more up this weekend, happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Canadian peeps!

* * *

James woke.

Not suddenly, or startled, he simply opened his eyes, wide awake and staring at the pale slumbering face still in his lap. He exhaled slowly watching as his breath puffed out before him, Tony's blue-tinged lips trembling with the cold.

Taking a steadying breath he looked slowly upwards, worried at who he would see. The burned women again? Or another tormented soul attached to the house?

It was neither.

Instead, before him stood the women he'd seen earlier standing behind Loki. She wasn't looking at him malevolently, but curiously, head tilted to the side, long black hair brushing her shoulders, eyes dark and sunken.

_“You can see me…see us?”_ She asked head tilting slightly, she was clad in a thin white nightgown to her ankles, with a matching white ribbon in her hair.

“Yes,” he answered softly laying a protective hand on Tony.

_“Do not fear me, I mean you no harm.”_ She assured him with a sad sickly smile.

“What do you want?” He asked softly, goosebumps rising on his arms.

She moved forward, limbs stiff, and movements jerkily, “ _To warn you…to leave here and take my brother with you_.” She stood before him looking pleading.

“I can’t, they won’t listen to me…I’ve tried,” he mumbled.

_“Then why stay?”_

He ran an absent hand through the dark hair still pillowed against his thigh, “I won’t leave him.”

She smiled sadly looking from him to Tony’s slumbering face.

_“I understand.”_

“Who are you?”

“ _Helena Laufeyson_.”

“Sister?”

She nodded slowly, “ _Older sister, I died little over a year ago, born with a congenital disease. I was dying from birth... we were dying since birth”_

James looked towards the study door where the blonde and the man in the wheelchair had disappeared, "Why is he here?" he asked softly.

“ _He got sick about six months ago…it will kill him soon. All the money in the world and he cannot stop death._ ”

She glanced sadly to the doors as well, “ _He is scared, and he wants to know what comes after. He is here to see for himself, what becomes of the dead.”_

James closed his eyes rubbing his temples, it seemed as though there were a lot of hidden agendas on this trip.

_“And he always gets what he wants_ ,” she was moving away now towards the door. “ _I cannot stay long, It will not let me.”_

James looked at her sharply, “What do you mean ‘it’?”

She was fading out now, disappearing, “ _Do you believe in evil_?” her voice no more than a whisper, before she was gone.

James jerked as if kicked, accidentally dislodging the head in his lap.

Tony came awake instantly, blinking owlishly in the dim light, “What happened?” he croaked, rubbing his temples. James felt bad leaning down he pushed dark hair back, studying those expressive eyes, “You ok?”

Tony winced a little, and James could tell he was in pain. The visons, particularly the bad ones, took a lot out of him. It had been terrifying as a child to have your friend suddenly slump to the ground, he didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

“M’ok, did I miss anything interesting?”

Shaking his head slowly James offered him a small smile, “Naw, nothing to write home about.”

Glancing at his watch, he leaned back into the couch, resettling the man in his lap, “How about we try getting a little more sleep?”

Tony made a small noise before wiggling out of his hold James letting him move, surprised when strong arms pulled him down do they could lay together on the large dusty couch. His shock lasted only a few moments before he was pulling the other close and holding him tight. Oddly content in the embrace despite the unease that stayed firmly lodged in his chest, he drifted into a fitful sleep.

-#-#-#-

Tony woke as soon as James shifted. The pounding in his head had faded to a more manageable ache, but the unfortunate feeling of dread had not dissipated. Muzzily he glanced around the room as James gently disentangled from him moving to stand silently.

"Where are you going?" he whispered, the room still dark and quiet.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled before he was moving, Tony scrambled to follow there was no way in hell he was going to let James out of his sight…or go anywhere alone in this house. He stuck close to the other as they made their way across the foyer to the large, depleted looking bathroom.

With limited running water in the place they had to settle for a sponge off and a change of clothing. Tony surreptitiously watching the broad back of James in the mirror as he changed. Keen dark eyes spotting healed scars, dog tags clinking softly as he pulled on his black t-shirt. Following the shirt, James shrugged on a shoulder holster clipping it to his jeans. Checking the gun, he slid the magazine home tucking it away.

“Expecting trouble?” Tony asked softly still staring at him in the mirror, feeling his breath catch as those pale eyes met his in the broken cloudy glass.

“Not sure yet…but I feel better having it nearby,” he explained pulling on his hoodie and pushing the sleeves up.

Tony nodded finishing up, opting for contacts instead of battling with his glasses all day. He finished, zipping up his bathroom case and turning to face the large figure leaning against the doorframe. James looked handsome, and somehow enticingly dangerous at the same time.

“Ready?”

Nodding followed him back towards the living room, already able to hear Peter chatting animatedly to the others as they neared.

“Must have got something,” Tony muttered as he headed back in curious what the other had found.

-#-#-#-

James watched Tony disappear into the living room before he turned back towards the stairs, and the figure standing on the landing. Walking past the living room he moved to the bottom of the scarred staircase peering up.

The figure didn’t feel like the others he’d seen in the house, there wasn’t that oddly oppressiveness to him, more of a biting sadness and longing.

It was a young man, looking out across the entranceway towards the large windows framing the front door, into the yard beyond. His gaze was sad and distant.

James knew intuitively who this was, “Kaleb?” he said softly, watching as those eyes turned to him. His neck moving unnaturally, the large bump attesting to what had killed him. Shaggy blonde hair hung limply; falling just past his ears, once blue eyes milky, and clouded in death. His t-shirt, and jeans where torn and dirty, eyes ringed in blackness as he gazed at James for the first time.

“You are Kaleb," he said louder, receiving a painfully slow nod. Cracked lips moved slowly framing words he could not speak; 'Leave.'

James nodded, “I’m inclined to agree, but I can’t.”

Those sad hollow eyes looked back to the windows. James turned as well, what was he searching for?

The apparition began to fade away then, James unable to help but feel the loneliness of the despondent figure.

“Jem?”

Still staring at the now empty space he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“You ok?”

Shaking his head he blinked, something about the boy had called to him, made his chest ache, “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He glanced into concerned brown eyes, Tony gave him a small, concerned look smile, “Come, Peter has something.”

Nodding he felt a warm hand take his as he lead him back towards the living room, feeling heavy and thick-headed. Trying to focus on the warm hand in his.

“This is frigging amazing!” the blond exclaimed beside himself with glee, furiously pressing keys, clicking buttons, eyes glued to his monitor.

James noticed the younger man had changed for the day, wearing bright, very tight, red jeans, black and red fingerless gloves, a black army cap, his t-shirt sporting a vaguely familiar character on it. James furrowed his brow in thought where had he seen it?

“Michael Myers from _Halloween_ ,” Tony supplied, James, shot him a grin, despite what Tony claimed he’d always been pretty good at reading people. 

“James check this out,” Peter was waving him over, pointing to the screen as he replayed what he’d captured over the night.

He watched as the empty ballroom suddenly sprang to life, people, music, the clink of glasses.

Couples twirled about the floor laughing gaily.

“Wow…” Tony muttered beside him.

“Yeah I know right? I have like three hours of this…”

Curious he glanced at the time stamp, 4 AM, “What time did this start?”

Peter glanced at his notes, “3, why?”

James felt a cold sinking feeling in his stomach, “No reason,” he muttered glancing away.

Tony snorted, a smile tugging his lips, “You can’t be serious…”

“I don’t know,” James said looking back to the screen.

“What? What don’t we know?” Peter demanded, looking from one to the other and back.

Tony sighed, “In some of the paranormal literature, there is a belief that Christ was crucified at 3pm, 3am therefore is generally thought to be a mockery of this. Something that denotes evil, demonic of you will…” He explained eyes never leaving the video.

They stood in uneasy silence a long moment before Professor Zemo spoke startling him, “Well, how about some breakfast?” He asked brightly gesturing to the large kitchen, effectively cutting the sudden tension in the room.

Reluctantly they followed, Loki already eating, while his valet, Thor served breakfast.

James ate slowly, eyes darting around the room, and to the occupants. Peter had a camera in one hand, and a fork in the other eagerly panning around the room. Steve and Thor ate quietly, while Tony was pulled into a conversation with the professor.

“I think the dead know they are dead don’t they James?” Suddenly light blue eyes pinned him, his fake smile showing his teeth in a feral grin. Zemo was trying to draw him into the conversation, and that was exactly what he didn’t want.

“Sorry?” James murmured doing his best to look bland, betraying nothing in his expression.

“We were talking about the dead, not just this house, but in general. The idea that they know they are dead, or do they believe they are still alive?”

James sighed, there was no escaping this, he had nowhere else to go.

“Yes and no,” he reluctantly answered.

“What do you mean Jem?” Tony was looking at him, intelligence and curiosity in every line of his face.

James wanted to answer him, but at the same time, the overly interested look Zemo was giving him, coupled with the very intense look the Lyfisdon Industries CEO was throwing him. He was more than a little unnerved.

“Yes, as in some are aware they are dead, the majority actually. No, as in they still act and do things as if they were alive.”

“I don’t understand,” Tony said looking puzzled.

"They know they are dead, yet they move their legs and walk when they don't need too. Some still breathe, others still try to eat or sleep…all the things they did when they were alive.”

“What about moving on? Heaven and hell?” a new voice joined the conversation, one that James hadn’t heard yet. It was raspy and weak rattling with effort. Intense eyes penetrated him, pinned him to the spot.

James was at a loss, “I don’t know…I only see the ones still here, not the ones that have gone. But not everyone who dies returns, so they must go somewhere.” He mumbled more to himself as he thought it over.

“Interesting, and you say that some talk while others cannot?”

James nodded hesitantly, Doctor Zemo was once more focusing on him with an unnerving intensity.

“Will they answer in other ways if possible like pointing or guiding?” the line of questioning was a little odd, but James nodded again.

“Very interesting,” he mumbled, James frowned at him, thinking of the teen he had seen on the stairs.

“Well if we are finished, I think we will do some more exploring today, the house is vast and there are many more rooms to visit,” the Professor smiled winningly.

Slowly they shuffled out, James following at a slower pace, agitated. He something wasn’t sitting right with him, his gut was telling him there was something wrong but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He liked to have a plan, he liked to know, and right now, there were far too many unknown variables.

His gun was a comforting weight against his side, but as he was all too aware of, you can’t kill what was already dead.

“Would it help if I said I’m as confused as you?” Tony was leaning against the doorframe watching him intently.

“Maybe?” James mumbled still trying to figure out the impossible puzzle before him.

“We’re ready to go you coming?”

James nodded moving to stand next to him, “Might as well, let’s see if we can stir up this hornets’ nest.”

Tony sighed, “Not a pleasant image.”

James glanced at him as they followed the stoic Steve, the Professor consulting the schematics he held, and Peter still recording. Moving once into the house, James wondered yet again, if the Manor was going to be the end of him.


	6. Fear and Obstacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started working on a new one, but I want to get this up for the spooky season. I better get a move on, enjoy!

* * *

“ _Loki_ ….”

The black-haired man looked up suddenly, "Thor?” he whispered looking slowly around to the empty room.

He had opted to forgo the little ‘tour’ Zemo had dragged the others on. Having settled in the study to work through the contracts he had brought with him on this little weekend. Wondering not for the first time if this was a fool’s errand.

He’d been working quietly when suddenly he’d thought he’d heard his name. Straining his ears he waited trying to still the rattling in his chest. He’d sent Thor to begin lunch, it couldn’t be him calling could it?

Not hearing anything more, he turned back to his paperwork, dismissing it as the wind. Carrying on in silence he was startled by a crash to his left. Jumping he turned to look towards the noise, a book lay on the ground amidst a cloud of dust. Swallowing thickly he felt his heart pick up in his chest.

“I don’t believe in ghosts…” he muttered unsure whom he was trying to convince. Another thump and a second book joined the first. Loki closed his eyes, gulping in lungs full of air, as another, then another hit.

The short sharp bursts of the hardcovers hitting the floor, sounding eerily like gunfire.

They began to fall with increasing speed. Gasping he felt his breath rattle in his chest, drawing air becoming harder and harder. He gave a small cry as a louder thump; much closer to him hit the deck. A harsh wind began to blow again tugging at his long dark hair and pulling free from the small tail Thor had pulled it back in to whip about his face.

“Thor…” he tried to yell but it came out in a wheezing terrified whisper.

“Thor!” he tried again a little louder, the wind blowing harder as papers danced through the air. Wide-eyed he opened his mouth to call again when he heard it. The terrifying inhuman cackling carried on the phantom wind.

“Thor!” he screamed out before he began to cough, choking, struggling to get air in.

The tall blonde burst into the room at a run, Loki felt strong arms gathering him in his arms.

“Loki,” he murmured as all at once the wind died, and the heavy silence returned.

Slowly, painfully his coughing subsided, as a strong hand rubbed at his back, and he sagged, into the arms of the other.

“What happened?” Thor asked, voice rumbling soothingly in his chest.

Loki buried his face in the man’s shoulder, “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he whispered once more, voice brittle and frayed.

-#-#-#-

“James,” Zemo caught his arm pulling him towards the back of the group, “I need you to let me know when you see someone.”

James stared at him for long moments, “Why?”

The man blinked at him slowly, an indecipherable look falling across his face “We need to find out the truth James,” he finally answered as if speaking to a simpleton. “When the dead speak we need to listen.”

He hurried off then after the others, leaving James feeling uneasy once again. Slowly he followed, purposefully staying near to Tony. The shorter man sent him a curious look, as they rounded the corner. James shrugged looking up at the man waiting for them. James instantly recognizing his friend in the tux.

“We meet again,” he stated slowly, breath huffing out in the air before him. The man giving him a small smile with half his face as he raised his glass of champagne in greeting. On his arm, a woman, holding her head by the hair in her free hand, a pained expression of horror on her face. Her sequined dress was drenched in blood.

“Where?” Peter demanded eagerly swinging his camera.

“The corner Peter,” he responded softly.

Zemo was at his side in an instant, “What do they say?”

James shrugged, “Nothing, they can’t speak.”

Frowning he glared at the empty spot, "Why?"

“I know why!” Peter gasped eyes glued to the camera screen, Steve was staring dumbfounded as well.

James didn’t take his eyes off the pair, the couple was walking away from them disappearing.

“James…” Tony breathed and he glanced at the men who were crowded around the camera, seeming unable to quite get out what he wanted to say.

“Do they always look like that? Like…” Peter tried trailing off.

“Like they just died?” James finished, “Yeah they do,” he sighed.

Suddenly he felt long arms wrapping around him, a slim form cuddling close, trembling.

“Your…your…” Tony was looking at him with horror awe-filled eyes.

“Awesome?” Peter finished softly.

Shrugging he wrapped an arm around the warm body, pleased to have Tony so close. The silent group pressing on further into the house.

-#-#-#-

They had been wandering for several hours now, the Professor pulling them along, checking room after room. Every closet, nook, and cranny he could find.

James had spotted other spirits, pointing them out for Peter, but he had not captured anything aside from the first couple. The others had been more party guests, as well as some of the handymen who had died during construction; no one of real interest.

These dead seemed to be…

”Flatter, one dimensional,” he mumbled wondering what was off with them, they were here, but not really.

Tony looked at him curiously, “What do you mean?”

James shrugged, “I don’t know, they are like ghosts of ghosts.” Sighing he ran a hand through already tousled hair, “Not making much sense.” He smiled ruefully at Tony, sitting on the large bed in an empty room as Peter filmed, and Steve stood by the door looking fearful.

“What’s wrong?” He heard Peter absently ask the tall quiet man.

Zemo was looking in the closet again, pulling out boxes rooting through them.

“This room,” Steve mumbled looking around, “It’s her room.”

Peter frowned, shutting the camera off, “You mean the original master bedroom?”

James glanced at the man, he was chewing nervously at his already bitten nail, “I have been here before…” he mumbled glancing around, blues eyes looking feverish.

“Ahhhh Ha!” Zemo called from the closet, emerging with an old hatbox full of papers, completely ignoring the others.

Peter's stomach gave a loud grumble and the younger man wrinkled his nose, "It's about lunchtime isn't it?"

Professor Zemo waved a dismissive hand, “We can eat and regroup after,” he mumbled pulling things out of the box.

Shaking his head, James lead them out of the room heading back down to get something to eat.

Rounding the corner he headed towards the main stair when he spotted him. Reflexively he froze, a chill creeping up his spine.

“Kaleb,” he breathed, staring at the pale, listless blonde in the centre of the hall. The apparition turned milky eyes to him imploringly, as bloodless lips moved silently, mouthing only a single word ‘Run’.

“Run?” James echoed confused, as the ghost faded out.

“James?” Tony asked.

A cold wind whipped by them suddenly, ruffling the papers Zemo held.

James couldn’t answer, couldn’t move, his entire being was focused on the other figure in the hall.

A woman, in a filthy nightdress, was slowly turning towards them. Her black hair, a long, wild tangle, streaked through with grey, fingers curled in a semblance of talons. Her head cocked as if she could hear them before it snapped sideways and James finally got a good look at her face.

He sucked in a breath, her eyes… Christ her eyes….

Her blood-soaked fingers moved to touch her cheeks, the gaping holes were once her eyes were, the sockets empty, and fathomless.

She’s clawed out her own eyes.

"Oh God," he whispered moments before an unearthly scream rent the air. A sound that the others must have heard as well if their flinching was any indication.

She was running at them then, James automatically raising his arms to protect Tony, as she collided with him full force. Throwing James clear off his feet, and slammed him against the wall.

“James!” Tony was yelling at him, as he tried to gather himself.

“Run!” He finally managed to wheeze in warning, Tony was frantically looking around for an enemy he couldn’t see.

James watched helplessly as the ghostly women rounded on him, sending him into the opposite wall. Tony slid boneless to the ground, unmoving.

James ignored the others, struggling to his feet he took a run at her. His passionate charge having no more effect than sliding through her and colliding with the wooden floor on the other side. Huffing for breath he rolled to his back in time to see the horrifying women push Peter into Steve. The big blonde catching him, as they both tumbled into Zemo.

James stood again, knowing what he was doing was futile, yet unable to stop himself. He charged at her swinging his fist, only to have it go clear through and into the wall behind splintering the rotten wood.

She grinned maniacally at him, baring teeth, " _You will not leave here_!” she screeched in an unearthly voice.

“ _You will never leave_!” she screamed again, gnashing her teeth and cackling, as she finally faded out.

James exhaled shakily watching her go. Grunting frustrated he absently rubbed sore knuckles in confusion when a small moan grabbed his attention.

“Tony,” he breathed, hurrying over to where the confused figure was slumped. Gently he patted the pale face, ignoring his split and bleeding knuckles.

“Come on Tony,” he whispered,

"James, is it gone?" Peter asked fearfully as he crawled towards them on all fours.

James nodded absently, eyes still on Tony as he tried to get him to come around. The sandy-haired man was at his side then helping, while Steve and the professor joined them thoroughly shaken.

Groaning Tony finally opened his eyes, “James?” he croaked.

Sighing in relief he collapsed beside him, running an unsteady, bloodied hand through tousled hair. Adrenaline slowly bleeding from him, leaving him feeling tired and heavy-headed.

“James you’re bleeding,” Tony took his hand concern in every line of his face.

“I think we should get downstairs,” Steve said softly, glancing around uneasily.

“Good plan,” James grunted, painfully getting to his feet, before helping Tony up.

The battered crew heading for the relative safety of the kitchen.

-#-#-#-

The room was brightly lit, the sun streaming through dirt-caked windows as they entered. Loki sat wrapped in blankets drinking tea with trembling hands. The fragile man jolting as they appeared.

“James I’m ok,” Tony insisted as the taller man helped him into a chair.

Thor was looking at them curiously as they shuffled in, “What happened?”

Peter and Steve joined him at the table looking pale and shaken, while Zemo took the opposite side next to Loki. Tony frowned as he immediately began to rifle through the box of papers he’d managed to hold onto.

James was at the sink washing off his bleeding knuckles. Tony winced as he picked a piece of wood out of his knuckles.

“Went two rounds with a ghost,” he mumbled in response to the question.

Peter fussing with his camera, “Here take a look,” he offered holding it up. Thor leaning over his shoulder, as Tony and Steve leaned in from the sides.

He felt a horrible sinking in his stomach as he watched it all play out again. The horrifying scream. James on the screen raising an arm, before he was flying through the air hitting the wall. There were muttered, ‘oohs’ from the others at the sound.

On-screen James was running at something only he could see. Tony glanced across the kitchen as the stoic looking man still staring hard at his knuckles.

The camera hit the ground as Peter was thrown. Suddenly words were crackling through the machine, deep and angry, "You will never leave!".

The mug in Loki’s hands clattered to the table, and Zemo looked up surprised. Tony felt a curl of fear starting in his belly. Across the room James hadn’t moved jaw clenched, hands clutching the sink, the silence in the room thick and oppressive.

“I think, it would be prudent to leave now,” Steve said softly, voice sounding overly loud in the silence

Tony wanted to weep with relief as he found his head bobbing in agreement with Peter.

"Good, finally some sense. We need to go," James insisted wrapping a towel around his hand, Tony was already moving to his side as the others moved to follow as well. The group of them heading out of the kitchen; only to be stopped by a harsh laugh, everyone turning to look at the professor still seated at the table.

“We can’t leave now, we don’t know where it is yet!”

Tony grabbed hold of James's arm, the man rounding on the still seated man, eyes narrowed, “Where what is?” he asked softly.

“The heart of the house,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tony stared at him blankly, what the hell was he talking about?

-#-#-#-

“Never mind, Tony we are out of here.” James grabbed Tony as he headed for the living room Peter and Steve hurrying after them.

Reaching the main entrance hall, they were chased after by Zemo, “Come on! You’re not being scared off by a little ghost?” he chided pleadingly.

Ignoring him, James pressed on wanting nothing more than to be out of this house.

Reaching the front doors, he reached out to open them when a blank eyeless face appeared.

Followed once more by a wind that sent them all flying backwards across the black and white tiled floor.

"No!" James bellowed struggling to his feet and charging to the door just managing to grab the handle, the wind picking up as he held bitterly on.

“James!” he could barely hear Tony over the wind whipping them now. James pulled on the door harder, slowly it began to inch open. Bracing his feet, muscles knotted and corded as he grunted with the strain.

Suddenly the door flung open and James went flying backwards. In the now open door, a figure stood. He was badly beaten, barefoot, and bloody, short brown hair hanging in cloudy green eyes.

He was long dead.

“ _Hurry!_ ” he called reaching for them, holding out an arm. James scrambled to his feet, tugging Tony with him as they ran for the door.

“ _Hurry_!" the teen called again James reaching fingers outstretched…seconds before the door slammed closed once more.

The wind died instantly, and James crashed into the solid wood, cradling Tony to soften the impact.

That now all too familiar blood-curdling laugh echoing through the house.

Peter and Steve were still on the floor, the sandy-haired kid clinging to the other as tears tracked soundlessly down his cheeks, “It won’t let us leave will it?” he whispered shakily.

James closed his eyes, banging his head against the all to solid door, Tony breathing rapidly buried his face in his chest, hands fisting in his shirt.

“I saw this,” he mumbled against the fabric.

James paused, “You did?”

“In the auditorium that day, you yelling, the wind…I saw it all and still we came, and now…and now we’re…” he trailed off, words shaky now.

“Trapped….” James finished, swallowing thickly at the fists tightened in his shirt.


End file.
